


Miscommunication

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [52]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Veteran!Bucky, amputee!Bucky, and Steve and Bucky can't communicate, art teacher steve, miscommunications, peggy is amazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 17:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: "I think we should break up."It's not what Steve wants to say, but... It's what he feels like he needs to. They're getting ready to head down completely different paths, and Steve has no idea where they'll end up at the end of them, or hell, if Bucky's even going to make it back from the army. The war's been getting worse in Afghanistan, terrorists getting more desperate as their hold on the Middle East loosens, and soldiers are coming home in pine boxes - or urns - as often as not now.





	Miscommunication

"I think we should break up."

It's not what Steve wants to say, but... It's what he feels like he needs to. They're getting ready to head down completely different paths, and Steve has no idea where they'll end up at the end of them, or hell, if Bucky's even going to make it back from the army. The war's been getting worse in Afghanistan, terrorists getting more desperate as their hold on the Middle East loosens, and soldiers are coming home in pine boxes - or urns - as often as not now.

For a long moment, Bucky can do nothing but stare at Steve, but at last he finds his tongue. "I'm sorry, what?" he demands.

Steve glances up at Bucky, but finds he can't hold his gaze for long. "I think it'd be for the best if we broke up," he repeats. 

"Right," Bucky says, and where before it had been full of indignation and incredulity, his voice is horribly flat now, carefully devoid of all emotion. "No, yeah, you're right. Of course we should."

And Steve hates that he's the reason Bucky sounds like that, flat and robotic, but he's doing the right thing - isn't he? "I just - we're going such different ways, I don't think it'd be good in the long run if we stayed together, but I - we can still be friends?" It's a paltry offering, one Steve expects Bucky to slap away. 

And he does, with a pained twist of his mouth that cannot be called a smile. "You said it yourself," he says. "We're going our separate ways. I'll be abroad, and you'll be so busy with college, makin' all these new friends and studying and whatever. Best we make it a clean break, huh?"

Steve's own smile isn't much better. "Yeah, I - I guess so," he says quietly. "So, this is it then?"

Bucky nods, looks down at his feet. "I guess so."

Steve hesitates, hoping against hope that Bucky'll be brave enough to say the words that stick in Steve's own throat, but when nothing more is forthcoming, Steve swallows back his disappointment, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "I should - I have to finish packing." It's a lame excuse, one Bucky will see right through - but Bucky's always seen through Steve's excuses.

For the first time in their lives, Bucky lets it slide. Instead, he just watches Steve turn and start to walk away, staring silently at his back until he can't take it anymore and the need bursts from his chest. " _Steve_."

Steve turns around so fast he’s surprised he doesn't get whiplash. "Yes?"

But Bucky falters, and offers Steve that not-smile again. "I'll look you up when I get back, yeah?"

Steve's expressions falls, but he catches it, schools it into something friendlier. "Yeah," he says, still with that not-quite smile. "That'd be good."

* * *

But he never does. When he finally gets back to the US after two years on tour, Bucky is in no fit state to see anyone except his doctors, and even after he's discharged and let loose on the world once more, he can't bring himself to do much except sleep and occasionally drag himself out to his VA meetings. The mere thought of Steve, when he allows himself the privilege, is enough to send panic searing through him, white-hot and crippling. Steve can't see him like this, can't know that this is what he's become. Steve's better off without him anyway, he tells himself until he believes it; Steve probably still has plenty of the friends he made in college and he's probably got a boyfriend or a girlfriend and he probably barely even remembers Bucky.

So he gets on with his life, or at least he does his best. A year passes, and he's getting out a lot more, putting in a few shifts at the VA when he can and attending sessions there when he can't, and he's got a Saturday job with the florist at the end of his street because it's quiet and the little old lady who owns the place twisted his arm by saying that she can't lift the heavy stuff by herself these days. There's enough money left over from various things that he doesn't have to worry much about rent or what little he eats, so he can afford to take time out when he needs to. But he's getting there, inch by inch, and most days are okay; some days are almost good.

Today falls into neither category. He slept like shit last night, anxiety gnawing at him until he felt hollowed-out and raw, and his appointment with Stark has left him shaken and stressed and _aching_. He's already called the VA to beg out of his shift tonight, and all he wants to do is get home, get into bed, and pass the fuck out. But of course the streets are more crowded today than he's seen them in weeks - he _knows_ that's the anxiety talking, okay, but knowing that and _feeling_ it are entirely different things - and he's shying away from a particularly rowdy group of teenage boys like a spooked horse when he walks smack into someone else and almost sends them flying.

Bucky reaches out on instinct to stop the person, the kid-- no, the man, from stumbling into the street, grabbing him with a clumsy right hand instead of the stronger and closer left out of instinct more than anything, and steadies him before looking up, apologies already tumbling from his lips.

He cuts himself off with a strangled sound. It may have been over four years, but he'd know those eyes anywhere.

"Steve."

Steve, who'd been ready to tear the asshole who'd nearly knocked him into traffic a new one, promptly swallows his tongue and chokes on it. " _Bucky?_ " he asks, voice strangled; the man standing in front of him isn't the barely-grown one he last saw in Central Park four years ago; this man is rougher, stubble coloring his jaw and something haunting his gaze, but Steve had been Bucky's friend for years, had grown up with him, been all but brothers before they'd become so much more, and he'd know James Buchanan Barnes anywhere. "Holy shit - how long have you been back?"

"Um," Bucky says, his gaze already sliding away from Steve so that he can take in the people pressing in from all sides. "A while. Sorry, I really need to--"

Steve might panic a little when he blurts, "Wait! I - is your phone number still the same?"

"Yeah," Bucky answers, and regrets it instantly. "I-- I have to go." He turns away before Steve can answer and loses himself in the crowd.

Steve stands there for a moment, dumbstruck, but when he gets knocked into again he finally moves to the side, out of the way of the foot traffic. "Fuck," he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face, breathing going shaky for the first time in months. _Fuck,_ Bucky's been back in New York for 'a while'? Just how long _is_ 'a while'?

Once Steve gets his breathing back under control, he fishes his phone out and calls Peggy. 

"Darling!" is Peggy's greeting after a few rings. "Are you on your way?"

"Yeah, I just - I ran into someone," Steve says with a breathless, humorless laugh. 

"Who?" Peggy asks. "You sound like you've had the stuffing knocked out of you. Have you gotten into another fight? Do I need to pick you up?"

"Not a fight, but I might take you up on that ride," Steve says. 

There's a jangle of keys and then a door slams; Peggy's already on the move. "Are you going to tell me what's happened?"

"When you get here," Steve promises. "I just - need another few minutes to process."

Peggy hums, but doesn't push. "I'll be there soon," she promises, and hangs up.

Steve doesn't bother trying to keep track of how long it takes Peggy to find him - he texts her his location, but then he sinks back into the loop of 'holy shit' that his mind refuses to surface from. When Peggy finds him, Steve looks at her, and simply says, "Bucky's been back for a while."

Peggy blinks at him. "Well fuck," she says. "How long?"

Steve shakes his head. "He didn't say; he basically ran away, and - he looked rough."

Peggy clicks her tongue in sympathy and wraps an arm around Steve's shoulders. "Come on," she says. "You need a strong cup of tea, and a good cry."

Steve laughs weakly, but falls into step beside Peggy. "Yeah, I think I do," he agrees.

* * *

Less than half an hour later, Steve is sitting in Peggy's living room with a mug of steaming tea on the coffee table; Peggy is opposite him, her feet tucked beneath her and her hands curled around her own mug. "So," she says. "Tell me everything."

Steve blows out a breath. "I was coming back from meeting with the director of the center, about adding that new class," he starts. "It was really bad foot traffic, and someone knocked into me, but then steadied me. I was going to yell at them, but when I looked up, it was Bucky." Steve has to pause then for a moment, taking a sip of tea before he can continue. "He - I knew he was going into the army, knew what that might mean, but it's another thing to actually see what it did to him. He recognized me, said my name, and it took me a moment to get my voice back. I asked him how long he'd been back, he said a while, and then tried to bolt. I managed to get out of him that his phone number hasn't been changed, but then he ran."

Peggy nods, looking thoughtful. "Are you going to call him?"

"I - I don't know," Steve admits. "If he's been back for a while... He said he'd contact me, when he got back from overseas. If he didn't, then, well. I guess that means he didn't really want to see me, or talk to me." Not that Steve could blame him, with the way they'd left things between them.

"You said he looked a mess?" Peggy asks. "Maybe he hasn't been well enough to contact you."

Steve shrugs. "Maybe," he allows, because that's probably the most likely reason why. "But I kind of got the feeling he didn't want to see me at all."

"But you want to see him?"

Steve snorts. "I've regretted breaking up with him ever since I first suggested it," he says. "It was a mistake, and I've wished I could go back in time to take it back more times than I can count."Peggy hesitates. "If that's what you want from him," she says carefully, "then maybe you should wait for him to come to you. He might not be in the market for a relationship right now, and he'll have definitely changed a lot, just like you have. You could both get hurt."

Steve shakes his head. "I don't - Well, that'd be a lie," he corrects himself. "But that's not why I want to get back in touch with him. I'm not stupid, I know that there's not much chance for a relationship like what we had, but I've missed him. If he's willing, I'd like to at least keep in touch a little better. I'd settle for that."

Peggy takes a sip of her tea, watches him closely over the brim of her mug. "Sleep on it," she advises him. "And if you still feel the same way, call him."

Steve thinks about that for a moment, then nods. "Probably the best course of action," he admits, taking another sip of his own tea. "He probably wouldn't react well if I called him now anyway. Or... Should I maybe text him? A little less pressure, maybe."

"That could be a good place to start," Peggy agrees.

"Yeah, I'll do that then," Steve says, then has to set his cup of tea down when his hands start shaking. " _Fuck,_ " he says, voice unsteady. "I - Christ, I knew I missed him, but... Jesus, Pegs, you should've seen him."

"Okay," Peggy says, setting her own mug down and crossing the room quickly so that she can sit next to Steve on the sofa and curl herself around him. "It's all right, Steve. He's here, he's in New York, he's alive. That's the most important thing."

Steve laughs, but it sounds more like a sob. "Maybe; he looked like he'd been dragged to hell and back."

"But he made it back," Peggy tells him, stroking his hair. "You can't know what he's been through, you can't torture yourself trying to guess."

"But I could have known," Steve argues, distressed. "If I hadn't been so damned _stupid -_ "

"You did what was best," Peggy says gently. "You were trying to save the both of you a world of pain. And he agreed with you."

"He was my best friend! I should've been there for him!"

"Well," Peggy says carefully, "if that's what you decide, maybe you can be there for him now."

Steve takes a deep, shuddering breath, and nods. "Yeah, you're right," he says quietly. "I'll - I'll think about it. Make my decision when I'm not having a bit of a breakdown."

Peggy chuckles softly and strokes his hair again. "Take all the time you need," she says.

Steve sighs, letting himself lean a little more heavily on Peggy. "D'ya think Angie'd mind if I invade for tonight?" he asks plaintively. "I'll make dinner."

"Of course she won't mind, love," Peggy soothes. "The guest bed is already made up."

"Heaven's missing a couple of angels," Steve declares dramatically. "Honestly, you're too good for the likes of us mere mortals."

Peggy grins. "Believe me, dearest," she says. "I know."

* * *

"You can do this," Steve mutters to himself as he stares at the innocuous text of **Hey, it's Steve,** on his phone screen. "You were brave enough to volunteer to be the practice dummy for Nat's self-defense class, you can do this." With this reminder, he closes his eyes and hits send. 

Then promptly throws the phone at Peggy and hides his face in his hands. "Did it send?"

"It did," Peggy confirms. Then, a moment later, "And you have a reply." She passes the phone back to Steve, an equally-innocuous response in full view on the screen.

**Hey steve**

Steve almost panics, mind blanking as he tries to think up a reply, but then he sends a simple, **How are you?**

**Fine. And yourself?**

**Okay. Crashed at a friend's place. How have you been doing?**

**Can't complain**

Steve bites his lip; he'd expected it to be a bit awkward, but this is even worse than he thought. Still, setting his thumbs to the screen again, Steve perseveres, doing his best to keep the conversation on safe topics. 

* * *

Almost a week later, Bucky sees out the last of his vets with a wave and a smile, before closing the door behind him and heading straight for the staff room. After a session like that he always feels like hitting the bottle, but that's something he tries to avoid these days, so coffee will have to do. It's not like he's going to sleep tonight, anyway.

Unexpectedly, the staff room isn't as deserted as it usually is, and Bucky hesitates in the doorway before waving awkwardly at his former - and sometimes, still occasional - counsellor, now his colleague, and heading over to the kitchen area. The coffee in the pot is still hot, thank God, and he grabs a mug. "Tough session?" he asks without looking over.

"About the same as usual," Sam answers, downing half his mug in one go. "Yours?"

"Rough," Bucky answers. "Jack had another episode."

Sam's mouth twists in sympathy. "Those are always hard. He doing okay now?"

"Yeah, we got him calmed down, called his wife to come pick him up." He finishes stirring half the contents of the sugar basin into his mug and turns to look at Sam. "You think I should ask Steph to talk to him about individual sessions again? I just don't think he's ready for group."

Sam drums his fingers thoughtfully against his mug before he nods. "Everyone's experience is different, but I think it's definitely something to talk to Jack and Steph about, make sure he knows the option is there."

Bucky smiles, nods. "Thanks, Sam."

Sam returns the smile with a salute with his mug; he hesitates for a moment then says, "So, you can tell me to mind my own fucking business, but what happened last week? You okay?"

Bucky grimaces. "Yeah," he says. "I had an appointment, y'know, for this." He wiggles the fingers of his left hand. "And everything kind of went to shit after that."

Sam hums idly. "Wanna talk about it?"

Bucky thinks about it. "You gonna head-shrink me or you gonna listen?"

Sam grins. "I'm not on the clock now," he points out. "I'll listen."

"I ran into someone on the street," Bucky says. "An... old friend. I haven't spoken to him since before I left for basic."

"Damn," Sam says quietly. "Was he a dick?"

"No," Bucky sighs. "I was. I walked away."

"Which is perfectly fine, especially if he blindsided you," Sam reminds Bucky. "Did you see him again?"

Bucky shakes his head. "But we've been texting a little."

"Yeah?" Sam prods gently. 

"Just a little," Bucky repeats, almost defensively. "I haven't told him anything about, about the tours or since, and I haven't asked him anything big either. We just talk about the weather and my neighbour's dog."

"Safe topics," Sam observes. "Not a bad idea, if you're only talking to him for the first time in what, four years?"

"Yeah," Bucky says. "I don't even know if I should be talking to him at all."

"Do you miss him?"

"Yes," Bucky answers, without hesitation. "But it's been four years. We've both changed so much."

"Yeah, that tends to happen," Sam admits. "Do you want to get to know him again?" he asks curiously. 

"It's not a question of that," Bucky says, sliding his gaze guiltily away from Sam.

"Then what is it a question of?"

"Whether or not he should get to know me."

Sam takes a moment to think that over. "I'm not sure I follow," he admits. 

Bucky gives him an indulgent smile. "You didn't know me before I went to war, and it's a damn good job, too, because you wouldn't recognise me now if you did, and you probably wouldn't be able to look me in the eye, either."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Sam says lightly. "Were you really good friends with this dude before you left?"

"Yeah," Bucky says. "Best friends."

Sam senses there's more to the story than that, but he doesn't push. "Well, I'd say take it as slow as you feel you need to, but if you were such great friends, I highly doubt he'll care about anything other than the fact that you're alive and talking to him again."

Bucky shrugs, and doesn't meet Sam's gaze again. "I guess we'll see."

* * *

**Do you think you'd be comfortable meeting? Not right now - doesn't even have to be soon - but would you think about it?** Steve sends the text before he can think too much about what it says, then makes himself very deliberately turn the screen off and put it back in his pocket and go find something to clean. It's been almost a month and a half since he and Bucky started talking again, and they've gotten better about talking over text, even had one or two halting phone conversations, and Steve sincerely hopes he hasn't just cocked everything up. 

He hasn't; Bucky texts back about fifteen minutes later, short and simple. **Sorry, i was in work. Im game if you are**

 **I'm game,** Steve texts back quickly. **Name a time and place.**

**The brew @ noon? Paninis are good**

**Sounds like a plan. I'll see you then**

* * *

Bucky almost chickens out three times on the walk to the coffee shop alone, and by the time he gets there his right palm is sweaty and his breathing is too fast, too shallow. But he's come this far, he's not going to admit defeat now. He sees Steve first, and ducks into the bathroom before Steve spots him to collect himself and check his hair for the millionth time. Only once he's got himself under control does he emerge once more, and head over to the table Steve's nabbed for them.

"Hey," he says, and he's surprised by how normal his voice sounds. "You ordered yet?"

Steve looks up from the menu he's been not-reading to give Bucky a slight smile. "Nothing besides a drink; I just asked for water for now, figured we could give some of these fancy options a try later?" His tone is uncertain; usually, one can't go wrong with water, but Steve's nervous nonetheless. 

Bucky smiles back and drops into the seat opposite Steve. "Sounds good to me," he says, snagging a menu for himself.

The waitress comes back around, and Steve orders a club chicken panini and tortellini Alfredo for himself, waiting while Bucky orders a babe panini before he gives Bucky a smile, asking, "How's the florist's doing?"

"Good," Bucky says. "It's not busy, but we're doing well. How's the community centre?"

"Busy," Steve says with a happy smile. "Art classes are staying steadily full, and for once we don't have a problem finding volunteers to help with the other programs, so I'm not giving up what little free time I have to volunteering."

Bucky smiles. "That's great."

"It is," Steve says, playing with his napkin. "So what do you do for the rest of the week, when you're not at the florist?"

"This and that," Bucky says, uncomfortable suddenly. "There are a few places I volunteer at, that kind of thing."

"Yeah?" Steve asks, bit he doesn't push further out of respect for Bucky's discomfort. "Any new hobbies?"

"I like to knit," Bucky says, completely serious.

That was new, but Steve gives Bucky an encouraging look. "Yeah?"

Bucky rolls his eyes. "No, Rogers. I haven't been replaced by an alien."

Steve thinks about resisting the urge to ball up his napkin and chuck it at Bucky's face; he ends up flicking it at Bucky instead, rolling his eyes. "Well people pick up new hobbies all the time," he retorts. "I've taken up jogging."

Bucky doesn't try to keep the smirk off his face. "Wow," he says. "Didn't know you had it in you."

"Well, I won't be winning any marathons, but it's helped a lot. Boosting my immune system, upping my endurance, and it's even helped my asthma a bit." Steve had grown out of the near-lethal asthma by the time he'd reached puberty, but a less-severe but still annoying version had lingered. 

The smirk slips. "Shit, Steve, that's fantastic."

"Yeah," Steve says. "Doctors are real pleased with it, too." He pauses while their food is delivered, giving the waitress a smile. After his first bite of panini, Steve can't help but groan. "Holy God, that's amazing."

Bucky grins. "I told you."

"Shut up," Steve mumbles through another mouthful. "Jesus, lived in New York my whole life and never been here before."

"To be fair," Bucky offers, "I didn't find it until after I got back."

"Must be new," Steve hums before tucking into his food. 

Bucky doesn't respond, just tucks into his own panini, and when a waitress meanders past he reaches out with his free hand to flag her down and gesture to his empty mug. "Don't suppose I could get a refill?" The waitress smiles and takes his mug, and Bucky smiles back at her. When he turns back to his meal, however, he notices that Steve is staring at him. "What?"

Steve starts, expression guilty, but he nods towards Bucky's left side. "Is that a bracelet or something?" he asks, though he's pretty sure it's the latter. 

"What?" Bucky follows Steve's gaze, and pales. "Uhh. No. It's just my arm."

"Prosthetic?" Steve asks quietly. 

"Yeah," Bucky says. He hesitates, and then slides the glove off of his left hand.

Steve sucks in a breath, putting his panini down in favor of studying the hand Bucky's showing him. "That's not the standard, is it?" he asks. "You have a lot of control over it."

"It's the only one like it in the world," Bucky says, wryly, like he's been told it's something he should be proud of but he doesn't believe it. "Tony Stark came to see me while I was still in the hospital, said he might be able to help me if I was willing to be his guinea pig."

"Tony _Stark?_ " Steve demands, gaping at Bucky, though he remembers himself enough to keep his voice from rising. "I - How big is it? Did it hurt?" He winces; regardless of whether he was asking about the initial loss or the fitting for the new one, that second question was over the line. "Stupid question, sorry."

Bucky graciously lets it slide. "The whole arm," he says, gesturing. "Up to my shoulder."

"Damn," Steve says quietly, worrying his lower lip. "How long ago?"

"I've only had this a couple months," Bucky says, "but I lost the arm right before I came back."

"It's the reason you came back?"

Bucky nods. "Honourable discharge. Whatever that means."

"What happened?" Steve asks softly, before he can stop himself. 

Bucky shrugs. "The usual," he lies. "IED."

Steve's mouth twists into a grimace. "Sucks," he offers, because 'I'm sorry' feels empty and trite. 

"It does," Bucky says, trying to smile as he clenches his left fist. "But, I could probably lift a car with this thing, so."

"Of course it's that strong," Steve snorts. "It's Stark tech. I guess it's, what, wired into your nervous system?"

"Yeah," Bucky says. "Took forever to get it right."

"Do you have full mobility?" Steve asks, interested. 

"Pretty much," Bucky says. "I can't really feel anything with it, though."

"What about pressure?"

"Yeah, I can feel pressure," Bucky says. "Stark's working on fine-tuning things a bit but it's about as good as it gets."

"Well, it's gotta be better than a usual one," Steve says thoughtfully. 

"Oh, it is," Bucky agrees. "I'm not ungrateful. Just, y'know. I'd rather not need it."

Steve grimaces. "Yeah, I bet," he says, for lack of anything better to say. He hesitates for a moment, then asks, "Why didn't you contact me? I get why you didn't right away, but, after. After things settled down a little bit." Steve tries to keep the hurt out of his voice - he has no right to be hurt - but he's not sure how well he succeeds. 

Bucky wets his lips, thinking. "I didn't know if I should," he says eventually. "I've changed a lot since I left. I didn't want to... disappoint you."

Steve tentatively reaches across the table to touch the back of Bucky's hand. "You could never disappoint me, Buck," he says quietly. 

Bucky smiles softly. "Doesn't feel that way," he says. "Feels like all I've done since I signed up is disappoint you."

Steve frowns. "What do you mean? I was never disappointed that you decided to enlist."

Bucky's smile turns a little sad. "I know," he says. "It doesn't matter; it's all in the past now."

"Well, I’m glad you avoiding me is in the past," Steve says with a smile, trying to cheer Bucky back up; he'd always hated it when Bucky was upset or down. 

Bucky laughs. "Well, I couldn't exactly give you the cold shoulder after I almost knocked you into traffic," he teases.

"Eh, most people who do knock into me give me that treatment, if they even realize they've run into someone," Steve laughs. "My pointy elbows are finally good for something, though."

Bucky grins. "Well," he says, "I'm sick of hearing about me. Tell me about college."

Steve grins. "It was actually pretty uneventful, except for the spring break of my senior year."

"Do tell," Bucky says.

"A couple of friends dragged me to Vegas and Hollywood," Steve explains sheepishly. "I mean literally dragged me; I pulled the dead weight trick, because my senior year was killing me and I was planning to sleep the whole time, and Clint and Thor each grabbed a leg, dragged me to the elevator and out to the car, dumped me in the backseat, and then Maria dumped my suitcase on my stomach."

"Amazing," Bucky snickers. "You know someone called Thor?"

"Apparently his family is Norse, descended from some village elder from fuck-knows-how-long ago, and his parents were just continuing the family tradition. Their names are Odin and Frigga," Steve explains. "His brother - who was adopted as an infant - got the name Loki. He was in one of my classes; he's really good with ice."

"That's... hilarious," Bucky says, and he starts to laugh. "I knew you'd meet some unique people at college, but. Oh my god.

Steve grins. "Clint grew up in the circus, there's not a computer system in existence that can keep Maria out, and I'm pretty sure the Dean is the head of some super secret organization that's responsible for any shift of power in the world."

"No shit," Bucky says. "Sounds like you've had a great time."

"It was hard, but worth it," Steve acknowledges. "I was even able to skip all of the first year classes; I've actually gotten my Master's in education."

Bucky blinks. "That's-- that's amazing, Steve. Congratulations!"

"Took a lot of student loans - my bank account will hate me for approximately forever - but I'm happy with it," Steve says with a smile. 

"You should be," Bucky says, beaming. "I'm so proud of you, Stevie."

Steve flushes lightly, has to bite his lip on a pleased smile to keep from blurting out the fact that no one's called him that since Bucky - and he hasn't wanted anyone to. "Thanks. For what it's worth, I'm proud of you, too, Buck."

And he doesn't deserve that by any means, but Bucky can't help the way his eyes go soft and his smile comes just a little easier. He flips his hand over to clasp Steve's fingers, squeezing briefly before letting go. "Thank you."

* * *

They spend a pleasant few hours together, and Bucky is grateful when they part with the promise to see each other again but without the pressure of set plans. They text a little over the next few days, the flow of conversation a lot easier now that they've spoken in person, and Bucky is loving it. He was worried that the spark between them would have died, that they wouldn't find it as easy to talk and laugh and _be_ together as they once did - but that couldn't be further from the truth. Absence, it seems, really does make the heart grow fonder, and from the way Steve was looking at him over lunch, Bucky's willing to bet that goes both ways.

He's thinking about that as he heads into the VA for his shift later that week, and he's distracted enough that he walks right into Sam. "Oh god," he says, "sorry! Got my head in the clouds."

"I can see," Sam laughs. "I take it your meeting with your friend went well?"

"Oh," Bucky says, and he _blushes_ , Christ. "Yeah, it, uhh. It went really well."

Sam grins. "Well enough that the next one might be a date?" he teases. 

Bucky startles. He hasn't told anyone here that he's gay, and he _certainly_ hasn't told anyone about Steve. "You-- I--"

"Hey man, it's cool," Sam says with a smile. "I just figured with the whole 'walking on clouds' thing... It was the same look I had when Riley got out of the hospital and finally quit avoiding me."

Bucky smiles. "He hasn't said anything yet," he offers. "It's still really early days. But. I think so."

"Well, good for you," Sam says genuinely. Then he smirks. "So, was my gut was right when I thought there had to be more to you than just ‘old friends'?"

Bucky laughs. "It was," he says. "We dated in high school."

Sam grins. "Well, maybe you two will get a chance to rediscover that spark now."

"I hope so," Bucky says warmly. "I really hope so."

"I'm really happy for you, man," Sam says sincerely. "What's his name?"

"Oh," Bucky says, that soft look in his eyes again, "it's Steve."

Huh; Sam knows a Steve who recently reunited with an old friend... But in a city as big as New York, what are the odds? Sam doesn't know Steve's old friend's name, anyhow. "Well, I wish you well," Sam settles on saying, reaching out to clap a hand to Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky grins. "Thanks, Sam. I'll see you later."

* * *

"So, I've been thinking," Steve starts, poking at his ice cream without looking at Bucky. "I think I'd like to introduce you to a couple of my friends - if you're comfortable with that, of course."

Bucky sits up a little straighter, suddenly paying a lot more attention than he was a second ago. "Yeah?" he asks. "If-- if you're sure." It's a little early, maybe, they've only hung out a couple more times since the first time, but then this isn't exactly a typical dating process. They have history, and Bucky at least hasn't dated anyone since he and Steve broke up; if anything, Bucky meeting Steve's friends is four years _late_. Bucky is more than game.

Steve smiles, encouraged by Bucky's response. "I'm sure," he reassures Bucky. "My friends are... Pretty eccentric. I'm going to introduce you to the most normal of the lot first, if that's okay?"

Bucky laughs. "Whatever you think's best, Stevie."

"Clint's just weird, Thor is intense, and Loki can be... A bit much," Steve admits with a laugh. "I only know two - no, three - nearly-normal people."

"Yeah?" Bucky asks, leaning forward. "Tell me about 'em."

* * *

Luckily, Bucky decides that Steve's friends sound normal enough; Steve originally plans to introduce him to Angie and Peggy, but Angie has to pick up a shift at the diner, covering for a pregnant coworker who went abruptly into labor as she walked in the doors. So it’s just Peggy, until Sam tells Steve he’s; so Steve invites him to meet Steve and Peggy at a little bistro in Brooklyn, where Bucky is waiting. "Hey," Steve calls, catching sight of Bucky. "Hey, this is Peggy and Sam."

Sam gives Steve a sheepish look. "We've actually met."

Bucky, suddenly extremely on edge, gives Sam a tight smile, but before he can say anything Peggy pipes up.

"Oh well," she sighs, and gives Bucky a playful wink. "If these two have a head start, then I suppose I'll have to put in extra effort to get to know you." She slides her arm out from the crook of Steve's elbow - a fact that Bucky notes with a vague sense of detachment - and slips into the seat next to Bucky. "It's fantastic to finally meet you; I've heard _all_ about you."

Bucky slides his gaze to Steve, gives him a searching look, before turning back to Peggy. "Well I haven't heard nearly enough about you."

Steve's not sure what that look was for, but he shrugs, smiling sheepishly. "I guess we've just been busy talking about other things," he offers. 

"Oh, I bet you have," Peggy agrees. "Lots to catch up on, after all. Bucky, I'm sure you've got loads of brilliant stories to tell me about Steve!"

Bucky flushes and looks away. "None that he'd want you to hear, I'm sure."

Peggy's eyes flash with mischief. "Isn't that the point?"

Bucky manages a weak chuckle. "Maybe some other time."

Steve rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "Yeah, Buck knows all the really good - and by 'good' I mean embarrassing - stories about my childhood, but I know all of his, too." He gives Bucky a playful wink. "Just remember that turnabout's fair."

Bucky knows what Steve wants from him here, so he pulls a face and laughs. "Yeah, definitely another time."

Peggy shoots Steve a sour look. "Spoilsport."

Steve smirks. "You're not getting dirt on me that easy, Carter," he teases.

Peggy just rolls her eyes. "Let me get a few drinks in him; we'll see."

"Oh," Bucky says. "Uhh. I don't drink."

Steve blinks; he's not sure why he's surprised; Sam's told him before that lots of vets don't like to drink after they've returned. "Oh. Soda, then?"

Bucky shoots him a grateful, if somewhat awkward smile. "Please."

Steve's smile is reassuring. "Sure thing. How about we get some food before the interrogation starts?"

Bucky pales, while Peggy grins. "Sounds perfect."

* * *

Bucky's tense and quiet for the rest of the meeting, and when Peggy and Sam take their leave, Steve scoots his chair closer to Bucky. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, though he has a bad taste in his mouth. Peggy had left only after giving Steve a fierce hug and a lingering kiss on the cheek, and Sam had given him a sympathetic look over the top of her head before making a swift escape himself. Message received. "Just feeling a little off tonight. Sorry if I was rude?"

Steve shakes his head emphatically. "No, you were fine," he reassures Bucky. "I just thought you seemed a bit quiet."

Bucky shrugs. "New people," he offers.

Steve nods. "I'm sorry if they were a bit much," he says. "Peggy can be... Intense."

"It was fine," Bucky says, but he can't meet Steve's gaze. "I liked her. And Sam. I can tell they care about you."

"They do. I think Peggy likes you," Steve offers, sure that something's gone wrong, but unsure of how to fix it. 

Bucky smiles. "I'm glad," he says. "It's good of her to be okay with us talking again."

Steve looks at Bucky curiously. "Why wouldn't she be?"

"Because of our history?"

"Oh. Peggy knows about that, and it doesn't really matter to her," Steve says, though he still a bit uncertain as to why Bucky's worried about this. Maybe he worries Peggy thinks badly of him? But no, Peggy knows Steve's the one who broke up with Bucky. 

Bucky shrugs, tries to tell himself it's good that Peggy doesn't see him as a threat. "Well, I like her," he says, and it's true. "She seems good for you."

"She is," Steve concedes; Peggy is an amazing friend, better than he could have ever hoped to find after losing Bucky. "Sam likes you, too," he adds, hoping a change of subject might help mend this conversation. 

Bucky's smile comes a little easier at that. "Yeah, Sam's great."

"He is," Steve agrees wholeheartedly. "He probably saved me from overdosing on caffeine during finals."

Bucky laughs. "He's good at that."

Steve grins. "He save you, too?"

Bucky nods. "He started slipping me decaff, I didn't notice for weeks."

Steve laughs. "He did the same to me. How'd you two meet?"

Bucky hesitates, but doesn't see the need to lie. "At the VA."

Steve nods and doesn't press further. "Well, would you want to do this again? Hang out with me and my friends, I mean."

Bucky shrugs, but he's smiling. "Don't see why not."

Steve beams. "Awesome. I'll text you about it later, yeah?"

"Sounds good," Bucky says, nodding. "How about another drink?"

* * *

They all meet up again a week later, and Bucky doesn't see Steve in the interim. He's busy with work and Peggy, the latter mostly a suspicion that's confirmed when they walk into the bar hand in hand and laughing softly together. He does his best to behave like a human being, but he can't help the way he zones out sometimes, distracted by the way Peggy rests her hand on Steve's arm when she talks, or the way Steve leans into her like it's the most natural thing in the world. Only Sam seems to notice, and Bucky is grateful that he doesn't say anything.

He ducks out early, but even so, he looks and feels like death the next morning. He hasn't touched alcohol in just over a year, but he was tempted last night, and now he wishes he'd given in; he feels hungover anyway.

The look Mrs Romanoff gives him when he drags himself into work says it all, and he gives her a weak smile. "Morning," he says. "Where do you want me?"

"Natalia is in the back," Mrs Romanoff says, her gaze narrowing. "You can help her set up, if you think you can stand for that long."

Bucky snorts, and does as he's told.

Natalia looks Bucky over critically when he pushes the door to the backroom open, then shakes her head. "You look like shit," she says bluntly. "Grab that planter, will you?"

Bucky grabs it. "Well you look lovely," he snipes. "Where do you want it?"

"Over there, on the table with the others," she answers. "What crawled up your ass?"

"Nothing," Bucky answers, setting the planter down with a sigh. "Sorry. Long night."

Nat raises an eyebrow. "Steve?"

Bucky glares at her, all apology forgotten. "Don't."

Natalia rolls her eyes. "Well _that_ didn't confirm anything," she drawls sarcastically. "What'd he do?"

"Nothing," Bucky says. "He didn't do anything."

"Uh huh. That's why you came in here looking hungover as hell even when you don't drink."

Bucky blinks. "How do you know that?"

"It's common for vets, and you've never come in hungover; when I ask you about your weekend you hardly ever mention any sort of drink, let alone anything alcoholic. Not to mention my grandmother got a look at your fridge when she brought you soup when you had the flu, and she didn't see anything alcoholic in your apartment," Natalia answers. 

Bucky narrows his eyes. "Your grandmother used me being sick as an opportunity to spy on me?"

"No, you dipstick, she had to put the extra soup somewhere and she made an observation." Nat's voice is fond even as she lightly smacks Bucky in the back of the head, more flicking his hair than anything else. 

Bucky ducks away a second too late and glares at her some more. "If you know so much about me then you should know better than to touch my fuckin' head, Jesus."

Nat's expression softens. "James, what's eating you? You're not usually this prickly."

Bucky sighs. "I don't know," he says. "You ever just been hit in the face by something, something you never expected in a million years, and it just blindsides you?"

Natasha nods. "Yeah. I know that feeling," she says sympathetically. 

"Well," Bucky says, "I guess I'm still a little disoriented."

"What was the realization?" Nat asks quietly. 

Bucky knows he could lie here, or brush it off - but he also knows that Nat would see right through it, and she wouldn't be impressed. He sighs again. "Steve's seeing someone," he says. "And I... miss him."

" _Oh._ " Yeah, Nat can see how that'd blindside Bucky. "Are they serious?"

"Looks that way," Bucky says, and he can't even bring himself to be miserable about that. Sure, it sucks for him, but he'd never begrudge Steve his happiness. "They met in college, so right after I left for the army. They're all cute together. Domestic."

Natasha hums thoughtfully, but doesn't say anything besides, "Well, if you need someone to bitch at, just make sure you work while you do it."

For the first time today, Bucky smiles. "Thanks," he says. "I'll bear that in mind."

* * *

A couple of days later finds Sam and Bucky hanging out at the coffee shop around the corner from the VA; technically they're on a coffee run, but they’re loitering, killing as much time as they can before they go back. Bucky's been quiet, which isn't unusual, but his resting bitch face has reappeared with a vengeance. "So, what's with the face?" Sam asks lightly. 

Bucky starts. "What?" he asks guiltily. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"Really? Because you've nearly glared that cup of coffee into steam."

Bucky just rolls his eyes. "Why is everyone I know so damn interfering?"

"Because we care about you," Sam answers. "So what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Bucky says again. "I'm just working through some stuff."

"What sort of stuff?" Sam persists. 

"The kind where I need to get my head out of my ass before I fuck up something really important," Bucky says. "I'm working on it."

"Uh huh. What's the important thing?"

Bucky shakes his head. "I can't talk about this with you."

Sam frowns. "Why not?"

"It just wouldn't be appropriate," Bucky says. "And we should be heading back."

"Why would it be inappropriate?" Sam asks. "I'm gonna keep asking questions, Bucky. You know it's not good when you brood."

"It's Steve," Bucky spits, and he hates himself. "Okay? Will you back off now?"

Sam's expression betrays his surprise. "What did he do?"

"He hasn't done anything," Bucky says. "The problem's mine. It doesn't matter."

"If it's upsetting you, it matters," Sam says quietly but firmly.

"I'm upsetting myself," Bucky almost snaps, frustrated. "You saw me right after Steve and I first started talking again, you know what I thought, and I-- It can't happen. I know that. I just need some time."

 _Oh._ Suddenly the pieces click into place, and Sam almost blurts out the truth, but... It's not his place to meddle. This is Steve and Bucky's miscommunication, they need to fix it themselves. Instead, all he does is lay a hand on Bucky's shoulder, squeezing briefly before letting him go. "All right. I'm sorry I pushed."

"Don't tell him, okay?" Bucky asks, almost begs. "I'll be fine. He doesn't need to worry about this on top of everything else."

"I won't tell him," Sam promises. _Not outright, anyway._ "But you need to talk to him if something's worrying you, okay?"

Bucky's mouth twists down at the corners. "If I can't get past it, I will."

Sam nods. "Good. Come on, let's get back to the VA."

Bucky just nods, lets Sam lead the way.

* * *

Steve and Sam have a hot date that night, and by hot date they mean plans to veg out in front of the TV with pizza and beer because despite still being in their twenties, they're officially old men who are too tired to party like they used to in the good old days. It's a pretty nice night, actually; they do it once a month and it's always some slight variation on the same theme - the pizza toppings change if they're feeling particularly adventurous, and they flit between baseball, football and cheesy comedies depending on their mood. Sam still isn't great around action movies, and their disagreements on what constitutes 'good' horror have led to a full-blown argument more than once. Tonight, they're watching an Adam Sandler movie, and it's one they've both seen often enough that Sam doesn't feel guilty for drawing Steve's attention away from it about halfway through.

"So," he says. "I saw Bucky today."

"Yeah?" Steve asks, looking away from the television to Sam. "How's he doing?"

"He's good," Sam says. "You thought about introducing him to the others yet?"

"Think he can handle them? Thor can be... A bit much, even on his own. Add Clint to the mix, and, well, you've seen what can happen."

Sam hums. "They might be a little intimidating at first," he concedes, "but he's a big boy. If you want to ease him into it, though, maybe start with Angie?"

Steve nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, Angie might be a good one. She's really busy though, what with her coworker just going on maternity leave and all."

"Well, see when she can pencil you in," Sam encourages. "It'd be good for Bucky to meet her."

Strive gives Sam an odd look. "Why are you so insistent on Bucky meeting her?"

"I just think it'd be nice, y'know," Sam says. "He likes Peggy, so why not Angie? Have you mentioned that they're dating?"

"No, I haven't; it hasn't come up," Steve answers. "Not that Bucky would care; we dated, remember?"

"Oh, I know," Sam says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Just think about it, okay?"

An odd request, but Steve's sure Sam has his reasons. "If it comes up, I'll mention it," he promises. "Though you know those two aren't terribly subtle."

"At least, they won't be if Bucky ever meets Ange," Sam adds.

Steve tilts his beer towards Sam in a 'good point' kind of way. "I won't have to explain anything then," he chuckles.

Sam does roll his eyes now, but it's fond. "Let's watch the movie," he says.

* * *

The subject of Angie and Peggy's relationship doesn't come up, however, and Steve forgets about his and Sam's conversation. A few weeks later, Bucky invites Steve to go see a movie; he tells Steve that it's a comedy, and it turns out he wasn't wrong about the comedy part - there's just... a bit more to it than that.

It turns out the movie's more of a _romantic_ comedy, and Steve feels his traitorous heart lift in hope. If Bucky had known about this... Well, maybe he'd invited Steve to see this movie with a little extra motivation than Steve had originally thought.

Beside him, Bucky is rather hoping that the ground will open up beneath his seat and swallow him whole. He had no idea how romantic this movie was going to turn out to be, and now he's completely humiliating himself. Steve must feel so uncomfortable. Bucky risks a glance, but can't read anything in his face; he leans ever so slightly away, just to really hammer the point home: Bucky wants to be here about as much as Steve.

Steve doesn't draw attention to Bucky beyond the usual movie behavior, laughing at the funny parts and murmuring sarcastic comments under his breath to get Bucky to choke on his popcorn. When they get out, they spend a few moments recounting the movie, laughing again at the funniest parts, before Steve dares to say, "I had a really good time this afternoon."

Bucky flushes, ducks his head, but he can't quite hide his smile. "Oh," he says. "Yeah, me too. I'm just sorry about the movie."

Steve looks at Bucky curiously. "Sorry? Why? It was a good movie."

"Well, it was a lot more 'rom' than 'com'."

Steve shrugs. "It was still a good movie," he points out. "A little romance never made me uncomfortable or anything, you know that."

Bucky smiles despite himself, his ears turning pink. "I guess you're right."

Steve grins, nudging Bucky with his shoulder. "So, you wanna go get something to eat?" he asks hopefully.

"Um," Bucky says, "sure. If you don't have to get home."

"I don't have anywhere else to be," Steve reassures Bucky. 

That doesn't sound quite right, but Bucky isn't going to question it. He grins. "Then let's go."

* * *

Dinner is a simple affair, and by the time it's done Steve's almost on cloud nine. Bucky acted a little odd during dinner, but Steve gave him space and didn't comment; he was probably nervous. Now that dinner's over, however, Steve finds that he's the one who's nervous. What if he misread the whole thing? He shoves the thought aside, however, in favor of being optimistic, but still probing just a little. "I had a good time tonight," he says as they exit the restaurant where they ate dinner. "How about you?"

"Yeah," Bucky agrees, "a great time. Um, are you walking home?"

"It's a nice night," Steve answers with a shrug and a smile. "I don't live too far. What about you?"

"Yeah," Bucky says. "I'm just around the corner, so."

"Oh, I'll walk you home then?" Steve suggests. 

Bucky laughs. "We might not even be going the same way." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm back this way."

Steve grins. "I live that way," he says, jerking his thumb in the opposite direction, "but I don't mind going out of my way; not if it means spending more time with you."

Bucky laughs again and takes a halting step back. "Oh, you don't have to do that."

"I know," Steve answers. "But I want to."

"Steve," Bucky says. "Really, it's fine."

"You sure?" Steve asks, a bit disappointed. 

"Yeah," Bucky says. "Trust me. You get home."

"All right," Steve says,giving Bucky a half-hearted smile. "Text me?"

"Sure," Bucky says. "Enjoy the rest of your night, Steve."

"You too, Buck," Steve says with a smile before he reluctantly turns away. 

* * *

Steve's barely closed his front door behind him before he's got his phone out and is calling Peggy. "How did you know it was a date the first time you had one with Angie?" he asks as soon as she picks up, not even letting her say 'hello.' 

"Bit out of the blue," Peggy says mildly. "She told me. Why?"

Steve sighs. "Bucky invited me to go see a movie, and it was a romantic comedy - like, _really_ romantic. We went to dinner after, and he was acting odd."

"Odd how?" Peggy asks.

"He was... Jumpy," Steve decides. "And he wouldn't look me in the eye."

"That is weird," Peggy agrees. "Could it be something military-related?"

Steve frowns thoughtfully. "Maybe? I didn't think anything like that happened, but maybe it's the anniversary of something?"

"You could ask him," Peggy suggests. "If he doesn't want to tell you, he doesn't have to answer."

"I could," Steve agrees slowly. "But he didn't seem all that keen on talking to me after we had dinner."

"Was this a date?" Peggy asks.

Steve sighs. "I don't know, that's why I called you," he complains. 

"Well could there be a clue there?" Peggy wonders. "If it was never stated that it was a date, perhaps he was uncomfortable?"

"Neither of us said anything about it maybe being a date," Steve says carefully. 

"Did you want it to be?" Peggy presses.

"I - Maybe?" Steve hedges. 

"Try again," Peggy says.

Steve doesn't answer for several long moments, but then he lets out a shaky breath and admits, "I wanted it to be a date."

"Do you think he wanted it to be, too?" Peggy asks gently.

"I don't know," Steve sighs. "He didn't start acting odd until he realized it was a romantic movie, so..."

"So you think not?"

"I think not," Steve confirms. 

Peggy makes a soft sound. "Oh Steve, I'm so sorry, love."

Steve sighs. "Me, too," he whispers. "I shouldn't have got my hopes up, but I thought..."

"I know," Peggy soothes. "But if that's not the case, then maybe you should take some time away from him."

Steve chews on his lip as he thinks. "Maybe you're right," he finally says reluctantly. 

"Is there anything I can do?" Peggy asks.

"I don't know," Steve sighs. "But right now, I really want to get drunk."

"Alone?" Peggy asks dubiously. "Do you want to come over?"

" _Please._ "

"Then get moving," Peggy says, a smile in her voice. "I'll get Angie making cocktails."

* * *

Steve spends a good hour downing cocktails and whining about his boy problems to Peggy and Angie before he has to go pee; while he's in the bathroom, he pulls out his phone. It's not the smartest idea he's ever had, drunk or sober, but he still finds himself sending a text to Bucky. **Hey.**

The response comes in almost instantly. **Hey**

**What're you up to?**

**Tv u?**

**Drinking lol. Angie makes rlly fuckin good cocktails**

**Angie??**

**Ye. Lives with Peggy**

**I thought u lived w peggy?**

**nah i live b mself but i come over a lot they're great unless theyre giving me drinks they tend to go overboard**

**R u ok? How drunk r u?**

**i am v v v drunk rn but im prob ok I think bit upset but the alcohol is making it go away**

**Upset? About wat??**

**tonight. Idk i thought one thing but it was another it's stupid**

**I dont understand?**

**it's stupid I just misunderstood what was going on don't worry about it**

**Steve**

**srsly forget about it I shouldnt have txted peggy's yelling at me I gotta go**

**Im sorry. hope i havent caused trouble**

**nah ur fine ill ttyl**

"Steve!" Peggy shouts for the umpteenth time, and is rewarded by Steve opening the bathroom door. "Christ, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost. Have you been sick?"

Steve shakes his head. "I've been stupid," he says miserably. "Hide my phone, please. So I don't do it again."

Peggy tuts sympathetically, and gently takes the phone from Steve. "What happened?"

"I texted Bucky," Steve confesses. 

Peggy pulls Steve the rest of the way out of the bathroom and puts an arm around his shoulders. "What was said?"

Steve sighs, gestures to his phone. "Read for yourself."

So Peggy does, and when she looks up again, she sighs. "I don't think it's as bad as you think," she offers.

Steve makes a face. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," he whines. "I just wanna go drink a couple dozen more cocktails and pass out."

"I wouldn't be a good friend if I let you drink any more," Peggy says, pointing. "The guest bedroom is that way."

Steve sighs. "All right."

"Good boy," Peggy says. "I'll see you in the morning, love."

"G'night, Pegs," Steve mumbles as he moves down the hall. "Tell Ange I said thanks for the drinks."

* * *

Peggy and Angie feed Steve a greasy hangover breakfast and let him spend most of the day recuperating on their couch before Steve finally kicks himself out. He drags his sorry ass home, where he spends another few hours facedown on his own couch, mostly drowning in mortification, before he finally decides he needs to call Bucky and apologize. He debates texting, but figures this is the sort of thing that should be done relatively face-to-face. So he fishes his phone out from the couch cushions and dials Bucky's number. 

The call almost rings out, but it's picked up at the last minute. "Hey," Bucky says, sounding infinitely uncomfortable. "How's your head?"

"Better," Steve answers. "Look, I wanted to apologize - "

”Steve, you don't have anything to apologize for,” Bucky interrupts. “It's fine.”

"No, it's not," Steve argues. "I obviously made you uncomfortable."

Bucky sighs. "Don't worry about it," he says. "You were wasted."

"But I made you uncomfortable even before that," Steve insists.

"Nah," Bucky says, "it was me who was acting weird last night."

"I just want to make sure we're okay," Steve says quietly. "I mean, I don't want to have ruined what we've got going now."

"You haven't," Bucky promises. "I was mostly worried about Peggy."

"Peggy?" Steve echoes, confused. 

"Well, you were with her when you were sending those texts," Bucky says. "You said she was yelling at you."

"Well, yeah, ‘cause I was in the bathroom for so long," Steve says slowly, still confused. 

"So she didn't see the texts?" Bucky asks, sounding anxious.

Steve barely hesitates before he lies, "No, she didn't see them."

"Good," Bucky says, sighs really. "Look, I know what happened last night, and I'm sorry for my part in it, but... It can't happen again."

Steve hesitates, chewing on his lip for a moment before he asks, "Which part?"

"You know which part," Bucky says. "You're happy now, right?"

"I - yeah, mostly," Steve admits. 

"Well then why rock the boat, huh?" Bucky asks softly. "We're doing good, aren't we? We're back in touch now and we're learning to be friends again. Why mess with that, when you've already got so many good things going on in your life?"

 _Because I'm selfish,_ Steve thinks. Out loud, he says, "I guess you're right."

"Do you wanna not see each other for a while?" Bucky asks. "Would that help any?"

"That might help," Steve says reluctantly. 

"Okay," Bucky says. "Take your time. You know where to find me."

"Yeah. I really am sorry," Steve adds, feels like he needs to. "Take care, Bucky."

"You too."

* * *

Bucky almost makes it through the week without showing any outward signs of his inner turmoil, but when he walks into work and meets Nat's piercing gaze, he knows he's been busted. He's just glad it wasn't Sam, who he's been avoiding all week just to sidestep this exact conversation. He sighs, and shrugs off his jacket so that he doesn't fiddle nervously with his hands. "What?"

Natalia just looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "You look like shit," she decides. "What's happened?"

"Nothing huge," Bucky says, because it's true. "I've just had a really shit week."

Natalia nods understandingly. "Well, we can talk while we work," she offers. 

Bucky sighs, because while it sounds like an offer he can refuse, it really isn't. He pulls on a pair of gloves and gets to work. "I went out with Steve last weekend," he starts. "We went to see a movie, dinner after."

"Oh? How did it go?"

"Badly," Bucky says. "I picked the worst movie in the world, and then afterwards Steve started treating it like a date. He even wanted to walk me home after."

Nat winces. "Really? But you said he was dating someone."

"Exactly," Bucky says, throwing a clump of compost into a pot with a bit more force than necessary. "And then he went to her place, got _drunk_ , and started texting me."

Nat makes a sympathetic noise. "What an asshole move."

"Yeah. Telling me how he was stupid for thinking one thing but it actually being another - or some bullshit," Bucky growls. "He called me the next day to apologise and I told him it couldn't happen again. I can't be the reason he leaves his girlfriend - he's happy with her, he said so himself. But he can't screw me around, either."

"No, he can't," Natalia agrees. "You deserve better than that."

"So does he," Bucky says, "and so does Peggy, Jesus."

Natasha sighs, moving closer to Bucky until she can lay a hand on his shoulder. "What did you decide to do? Are you still talking to him or?"

Bucky shakes his head. "He said he needs some space, to get his head around everything. Haven't heard from him since."

Natasha sighs. "I know Steve meant a lot to you, but is even just being his friend worth all of this?" she asks gently. 

"I don't know," Bucky admits. "I thought so. But I don't want either of us to get hurt."

"Forget about his feelings for a moment," Natasha says. "This is about you. Do you feel being Steve's friend is worth it?"

"Yeah," Bucky says quietly, "it is. I've missed him a lot."

"Then you need to be committed to being his friend," Natasha replies. "No ambiguity."

"I agree," Bucky says. "Which is why I drew the line with him the other day."

"Good," Nat says with a nod. 

* * *

It's been over a week now since Bucky last spoke to Steve, nearing the two-week marker, and he's just starting to accept the fact that maybe being friends with him _and_ dating Peggy is just too much for Steve, when Steve calls. He's not prepared, and he almost drops his phone into a sink full of dishwater before he fumbles it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Bucky," Steve says, and his nervousness clearly shows in his voice. "Are you doing anything Friday?"

"Um," Bucky says. "VA in the morning. Why?"

"A bunch of us are getting together at the bar; I was wondering if you wanted to come? You could bring some of your friends, too; Angie needs new drinking buddies, apparently."

"Um," Bucky says, "are you sure?"

"Yeah," Steve says, though he now sounds uncertain. "I mean, I want us to still be friends, and I thought maybe a group thing would be better, but if you don't want to come, that's fine too."

"No," Bucky says, his mind racing. "No, that's fine. I've even got a friend I can bring and everything."

"Great!" Steve says happily. "I'll text you the details? It's a really chill bar, low-key."

"Sounds good," Bucky agrees. "I'll see you then."

"See you," Steve says warmly before hanging up. 

* * *

The bar Steve gives Bucky directions to is called Cafe D'Art, and Steve wasn't wrong when he said it was a very low-key bar; it's quiet, with just the hum of conversation overlaying the jukebox, and Natasha has to grudgingly admit it's a nice place. Still, that doesn't mean she's prepared to like Steve any more, and she makes sure Bucky knows it. "If he acts like a douche, I'm going to dropkick him out the door," she tells Bucky as they make their way towards the table where Steve, Sam, and two strangers are waiting. 

"Is this what you're always like on a night out?" Bucky asks mildly, though he's practically vibrating with anxiety. "Maybe this was a mistake, maybe we should--"

"Hey Bucky!" Sam calls, waving, as they approach the table. "Who's your friend?"

"Uhh, this is Nat," Bucky answers. "Nat, this is Sam, Steve and..."

"Clint," the stranger supplies. "Clint Barton."

"And I'm Angie."

Bucky offers them both a smile. "Where's Peggy?"

"Oh, she had to work," Angie says, rolling her eyes. "Boring."

"That's too bad," Bucky says, with a sympathetic look for Steve.

Steve shrugs. "Eh, it happens," he says, waving a hand. "Now, who wants a drink?"

"Me," Nat and Angie say at the same time, and they grin at each other. Well, Angie grins; Nat kind of glares less.

Bucky smiles. "I'll have a soda."

Steve grins. "Tell me what you guys want; I'll pay for first round," he offers; once he's got everyone's orders, he heads over to the bartender. When he's gone, Clint turns to Bucky with a speculative look. 

"So you're Bucky, huh? Better-looking than I was imagining."

"Thanks," Bucky says, a quizzical smile on his lips. "Did you go to college with Steve?"

"Yep," Clint answers with a grin. "I'm a couple years older than him, thanks to a tour or two, but we graduated the same year."

"Oh," Bucky says, his smile coming a little easier now as he starts to relax. "So you're a vet, too."

Clint nods. "IED fucked my hearing to hell and back, but I was able to get some sweet StarkTech hearing aids, and the army paid for college, so I figure I got off light, compared to a lot of others."

Bucky nods, engrossed. "Stark is amazing," he says. "The work he's doing with vets is just incredible."

"Guy's a genius," Clint agrees. "I can barely even tell I'm wearing my aids most times."

"You don't say that when you're ignoring me _on purpose_ ," Sam complains.

Clint grins. "But it's so fun to watch you get pissed," he teases. 

The atmosphere is a lot easier when Steve gets back with the drinks, and Bucky is actually laughing, but he clams up again when Steve resumes his seat opposite. The others don't notice, happily caught up with each other, but Steve gives him a concerned look that he ignores. He does try to focus on the conversation, even if he finds he has very little to contribute, and his attention is finally caught again when Angie stands up abruptly somewhere between the fourth round and the fifth.

"My turn!" she cries. "Peggy's not here to give me disapproving looks, so I'm making the most of it. Same again, everyone?"

She's gone before anyone can actually answer, and Bucky finds his voice again. "Peggy not a big drinker?"

"Not really," Steve answers. 

"She likes to save her drinking for when she can best humiliate the rest of us," Sam adds. 

Bucky grimaces. "Sounds fun."

"It is, until you wake up with the mother of all hangovers," Sam says with a grin. 

"Yeah, I bet," Bucky says. He glances at Nat, hoping to share a smile with her or at least find an excuse not to look at Steve, and notices that she's still glaring - at Steve. Bucky frowns at her.

Nat catches Bucky's frown, but she just raises an eyebrow, daring him to comment. Steve, for his part, isn't sure why Natasha is glaring at him, but he doesn't comment on it, not yet anyway. If he gets a chance, he might ask Bucky. For now, however, he settles for sipping his drink while Angie says, "English can hold her liquor; I've seen her drink her entire family under the table. Anyone who challenges her now is either stupid or got a death wish."

"Good thing I don't drink, then," Bucky says, without looking up from the table. "Wouldn't want to embarrass myself."

Angie looks vaguely sheepish, like she realizes she just stuck her foot in her mouth, but Clint is the one who replies, "Good choice; I haven't challenged her since I woke up in the middle of the quad with my underwear on my head - and that was the only thing I was wearing." He grins at Bucky and shoots the other veteran a wink.

Bucky smiles back, but he still doesn't say much more for the rest of the night.

* * *

Steve gives Bucky the space he's fairly sure Bucky wants, but he's still grateful to Sam and Clint for trying to help Bucky feel more comfortable, and to Angie for distracting Natasha. The woman's got a hell of a glare, and with the way she's been consistently directing it at Steve, the blond is starting to actually fear for his life. Still, he doesn't want Bucky to leave without them reconciling at least a little, so when Natasha announces that she's going to the bathroom before she leaves - with a pointed look at Bucky - Steve takes the opportunity to slide over a seat so he's sitting across from Bucky. "Hey," he says with a slight, uncertain smile. "How you doing?"

"Okay," Bucky says. "Sorry about Nat, we're both a little weird around new people."

Steve hesitates, then points out, "Natasha only glared at me."

Bucky winces, glances at the others still gathered around the table. "I'll talk to her," he says.

Sam and Clint are absorbed in their own little world, but Steve still lowers his voice. "She doesn't like me very much."

"She doesn't like anyone very much," Bucky admits. "Me included. Don't take it personal."

"Kind of hard not to when she was really only glaring at me," Steve says dryly, but he's smiling. "How did you two meet, anyway?"

"Oh, at work," Bucky says. "Her grandma owns the florist's."

"Oh, cool," Steve says with a grin. "So did she threaten to use the pruning shears on your hair yet?"

"Now that's harsh," Bucky says, scowling. "There's nothing wrong with my hair."

Steve smirks. "That's what you think," he teases. "It looks a bit like a rat's nest from where I'm sitting."

"Rude," Bucky grouches. "I like it."

Steve grins. "I suppose the rogue-ish look does fit you," he concedes with a laugh. 

Bucky can't help the way he preens. "Well, you're not wrong."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Don't go getting a big head now," he teases. 

Bucky sighs. "I'll do my best," he says. A flash of red catches his eye, and he has to repress a groan when he sees Nat by the bar, her glare turned full-force on him now. "Um, I think I'd better get going."

Steve turns to see what Bucky's looking at, and winces when Natasha turns her glare on him. "Yeah, she doesn't look very happy. You'll text me though, right?"

"If you want me to," Bucky says with a small smile.

Steve returns the smile. "I do," he says. "She looks ready to come grab you, so I guess you should get going."

"All right," Bucky says, already rising. "I'll see you all later."

"See ya," Sam, Steve, and Clint all chorus. 

Bucky waves, and then leaves the table to herd Nat outside. "What the hell?" he demands.

"I could ask you the same thing," she retorts. "What were you talking to Steve about? You two looked pretty cozy."

"We were talking about how much of a jerk you've been all night," Bucky bitches. "I didn't bring you so that you could try to kill Steve with the power of your mind."

Nat has the grace to look slightly sheepish. "A bit of glaring never hurt anyone. Besides, after the way he's treated you, he deserves it."

"We're both struggling to adjust," Bucky says. "But we want to try, I think."

"Try being friends?" Nat presses. 

"Yeah," Bucky says. "It's worth it. It is."

"Why does that sound like you're not trying to convince only me?"

"I don't know, because I am," Bucky shoots back. "Steve's always been worth it, okay?"

"Okay," Natasha says, holding her hands up in a placating manner. "I just want to be sure that _you're_ sure."

"I am," Bucky says. "It's been four years. I know what I'm doing."

Natasha nods. "If you're sure, then," she says. "C'mon, let's get home."

Bucky sighs, but agrees.

* * *

Steve and Bucky text on and off over the next week or so, but they don't make any arrangements to see each other again. It's probably for the best; they're both still learning how to be friends again without the influence of anything else, and Bucky knows that to rush things would be to ruin them. Still, when he sees an interesting-looking ad in the paper one morning, he can't help but pick up the phone. "Hey," he says when Steve answers. "It's me. Is this a good time?"

"Yeah, this is fine," Steve says, though he stifles a yawn. "Sorry, I just woke up. What did you need?"

"Nothing," Bucky says, "just saw something and thought of you. Did you know there's an art exhibition at the museum this weekend? Trench art and propaganda posters, stuff like that."

"Have you been reading the morning newspaper again?" Steve asks with a laugh as he gets his breakfast ready. "But yeah, that does sound interesting."

"I like the paper," Bucky insists, but he's laughing. "Figured you and Peggy might wanna go."

"Nah, Peggy isn't terribly interested in that sort of thing, and she already has plans with Angie," Steve says thoughtfully. "I would like to go, but it's no fun going alone. Are you doing anything?"

"Um," Bucky says, "no. But I didn't call assuming--"

"Nah, I figured not. But if you want to, we could go together?"

"Sure," Bucky agrees, a little too quickly. "If you're positive Peggy wouldn't want to go."

"Like I said, she's already got plans," Steve says. "So you in?"

Bucky smiles into the phone. "Yeah," he says. "I'm in."

"Awesome," Steve says happily. "Text me the details?"

"I will," Bucky promises. "See you soon, Steve."

* * *

They meet up for lunch on Saturday afternoon before heading to the museum, and Bucky expects to be weird, but it's not. They have a great time, from laughing in the café to sharing sombre looks over some of the more poignant exhibition pieces. It's okay, mostly; some of the war stuff hits a little close, but most of it is far enough removed from what Bucky experienced that it doesn't bother him. It's just interesting.

"I think it carries on through there," he says when they've looked at everything in the main room, pointing towards an archway. "You wanna take a look?"

"Sure," Steve says, giving Bucky a smile. He's had a great time so far; this very clearly is not a date, but Steve’s still having fun. He'd rather have Bucky as his friend than not at all. 

Bucky grins, and follows Steve through the archway - only to stop dead as soon as he gets inside. "Oh." It seems that the museum has kept the war theme, but lost the art; this whole section is dedicated to the experiences of soldiers, from the Second World War right through to the almost-present. "Awesome."

Steve's expression softens. "Are you alright? We can skip this section if you want."

"No," Bucky says, though he doesn't sound convinced. "No, I'll be fine."

Steve hesitates, but nods, trusting Bucky to know his own comfort levels. "Let me know if you want to move on, or leave or whatever, though," he says firmly. 

Bucky manages a smile. "I will," he says.

Steve nods, satisfied, and leads the way into the gallery. 

Bucky follows him around for a little bit, less interested in the exhibit now than he was before. He lets Steve's enthusiasm carry him like a tide, and spends most of the time watching his face as he absorbs the information on offer. The one time he does pay particular attention to what Steve's looking at, he regrets it. "Uh, Steve?"

Bucky's tone immediately catches Steve's attention, and he turns to face Bucky. "Yeah?" he asks, concern coloring his voice. 

Bucky is aware that he's pale, probably sweating, and that his hands are shaking. He'll feel ashamed later, but right now: "I think I need to get out of here."

"Okay," Steve says instantly, tucking his pamphlet into a pocket. He reaches out to out a hand on Bucky's shoulder, but hesitates. "Is it okay if I touch you?" he asks carefully. 

"Uhh, yeah," Bucky says, with a jerky nod. "It's fine."

"Okay." Steve's hand is gentle when he lays it on Bucky's shoulder and walks him out of the gallery and onto the street, moving them both to the side so Bucky has room. "How you doing?"

"Okay," Bucky says, not even trying to hide the way he's dragging in huge breaths. "I think I'm okay."

Steve doesn't say anything, just standing with Bucky and glaring at anyone who gets too close or looks at them sideways. When Bucky's breathing has finally calmed, Steve gently rubs his shoulder. "Better?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, and this time it sounds like he means it. "I'm sorry. You should go back in there."

"Nah, I was just about done anyway," Steve says. "C'mon, let's go get something to drink, yeah?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, "okay. Thanks."

"No problem. C'mon, there's a Starbucks just around the corner."

* * *

A few weeks later, as Sam brings the weekly veteran's meeting at the VA to a close, he drums his fingers against the podium before saying, "This week, we're going to end a bit differently. Barnes tells me he's got a question he wants your advice on, so I'm going to let him take it from here."

All eyes turn to Bucky, who blushes a little and raises a hand in greeting. "Hey," he says. "Long time no see, huh? But, uhh. I have a bit of a problem. See, I have this friend." His gaze flickers to Sam's and then away. "Who I knew before I joined the army. And we're talking again now and things are really good. But he doesn't know anything about what happened to me. So I guess my question is, do I tell him? And if so, how?"

Sam's surprised by the question, then surprised at his surprise. Things have been going well between Steve and Bucky, so it's not unreasonable for Bucky to be wondering about telling Steve what happened to him. Before Sam can say anything, however, one if the other veterans, Sarah, speaks up. "That depends. Do you think you can trust him with this information? Even the general stuff can be pretty heavy."

"I used to trust him with everything, before," Bucky answers. "It's not about not trusting him; it's about not trusting myself."

"Maybe start off small," Logan suggests. "See how he reacts to that before getting into the bigger stuff."

Bucky nods, dares to glance at Sam. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

Sam gives Bucky an encouraging smile. "A lot of times, that's the best way," he agrees. "If you're sure you want to tell him, then start with the general overview before you get into specifics."

Bucky nods, ducks his head. "I just don't want him to think less of me, or that I'm made of glass or something."

"If he's as good a friend as you think, then he won't," Sarah says confidently. 

"What do you think?" Bucky asks Sam.

"I think that's good advice," Sam says, still smiling. 

"Then I'll give it a shot," Bucky says, to the room at large. "Thanks."

The whole room choruses its encouragement in response, and Sam smiles to himself. Maybe these two will get things straightened out after all. 

* * *

The next night, Steve gets a call from Bucky. "Hey," he says warmly. "Just heating up some leftovers. What's up?"

"I was wondering if we could get together?" Bucky asks, before he can let himself chicken out. "Just the two of us. There's some stuff I wanna talk about."

"Sure," Steve says easily. "You wanna come over? I've got enough leftovers for two."

Bucky lets out a shaky breath, but he smiles. "Yeah," he says. "That sounds great."

"I'll text you the address," Steve promises. "Dinner will be ready when you get here."

* * *

And it is. Bucky walks through the front door and is immediately greeted by the most heavenly smell, and he grins at Steve as he shrugs off his jacket. "Oh God, I am starving."

Steve grins. "Good. I heated up some extra meat for the fajitas. Tortilla wraps are in the microwave."

"Amazing," Bucky says, already following that smell. "You sure I'm not interrupting anything?"

"I'm sure," Steve says reassuringly. "C'mon, let's get some food then we can talk?"

Bucky nods. "Sounds good."

Steve brings out the shredded cheese and sour cream, and waits until they've both finished at least half of their fajitas before he asks, "So, you had something you wanted to talk about?"

"Yeah," Bucky says. "I think we both know that I've been holding back from you, since I got back. And I'm really glad we're talking again, _really_ glad. But there's a reason I stayed away for so long."

Steve nods; he'd figured as much. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"Yeah," Bucky says. "I think I'm ready, if you're willing to listen?"

Steve gives Bucky a smile. "I'll always listen," he promises. 

Bucky smiles back, takes a deep breath. "I didn't just go to war, get blown up, and come back," he says. "No one really comes back from war whole, even the people who don't get a scratch on 'em. But for some of us, obviously, it's a little more literal." His right hand shakes when he reaches for his left, there's no hiding it, and there's also no going back; with one more cautious glance at Steve, he peels the glove off his left hand, and continues. "I told you I lost this arm because of an IED. That’s not entirely true."

Steve's gaze is drawn to the shiny metal, just as it had been the first time, before it flicks up to meet Bucky's, a question in his eyes.

Bucky sighs. "My unit was ambushed," he elaborates. "It was pretty nasty, and we were captured, all of us. I was a prisoner of war for three months."

"Damn," Steve swears. "How did you get out?"

"We broke out," Bucky says, and it's almost the truth. "We got away, and thankfully the first people we came across were on our side."

Steve nods. "So that’s why you got the honorable discharge?" he guesses. 

Bucky nods. "And a boat load of therapy."

Steve can't help the weak chuckle that escapes at that. "God," he says. "I’m so sorry you had to go through that."

Bucky smiles back. "You and me both, pal," he says. "I was a mess when I got back. I know I said I'd reach out to you, but I didn't want you to see me like that."

"I wouldn't have cared about anything except you being alive," Steve says confidently. "But I understand. I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me now."

"Yeah," Bucky says. "Me too."

* * *

Over the next few weeks Steve and Bucky continue to spend time together, and Steve does his best to act the same as he always did. He's not entirely successful, he knows, but he still does everything he can to not make a big deal of when he sticks his foot in his mouth or spends too long looking at Bucky's prosthetic arm. Bucky doesn't hold his trip-ups against him, at any rate, and those are rapidly becoming fewer and farther in between.

Almost a month after that conversation, Steve invites Bucky to the bar again; he tells Bucky they're celebrating Angie's promotion to co-owner of the diner she works at, which is true - but he neglects to update Bucky on the second reason for celebrating, which occurs the night before. Steve only learns about it the morning of the planned get-together, and he's so caught up in the excitement that he forgets to tell Bucky or anyone else about that second reason.

The look on Bucky's face when Peggy shows off her brand-new engagement ring, however, tells him he probably should have warned Bucky.

"Oh," Bucky says, and to his own ears he sounds like he's a million miles away, or possibly underwater. He certainly feels like he's drowning. "Wow. I guess, congratulations?"

Peggy raises an eyebrow. "You sound thrilled."

Bucky nearly swallows his own tongue. "No," he says, with no more feeling, "I am. I'm really happy for you both."

The eyebrow climbs higher. "Well, thank you," she says dryly. "We're paying for any drinks tonight, so just tell the bartender to put it on Carter's tab." 

"That's awful nice of you," Bucky offers. He still can't look away from the ring. "I think I'll just get myself a drink, then. Congratulations again."

Peggy lets Bucky go for now, but when she sees him drinking what looks like one hell of a lot of shots, she finds herself getting worried. Bucky hasn't spoken to anyone, and Steve's wounded look when Bucky growls at him is the last straw. "So, mind telling me what stick got shoved up your arse?" Peggy asks as she slides into the seat next to Bucky and steals his shot. 

"What?" Bucky asks, his eyes wide and guilty. "Oh. M'not drinkin' these on your tab, m'payin' for 'em myself. Don't worry."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Peggy replies. "I'm worried about how much alcohol you're drinking when Steve and Sam both tell me you don't drink. What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," Bucky says. "It's nothin'. Please, Peg, just enjoy the party."

"I can't if one of the guests very clearly isn't enjoying himself," Peggy insists. "You nearly bit Steve's head off."

Bucky sighs, drains his glass. "You're right," he says, "I'm sorry. I really shouldn't be here."

"I'd like to think we're your friends too," Peggy says, slightly hurt. "You have every right to be here."

Bucky shakes his head, huffs a laugh that sounds embarrassingly wet. "I am your friend," he says. "But you need people here who can be happy for you, and..." He gestures to the empty glasses on the bar before him. "I'm clearly not there yet."

Sensing she's getting somewhere, Peggy presses further. "Why not?"

"I just can't," Bucky says. "Peggy, please. I'm gonna go, okay? I'm sorry."

"Bucky, what's wrong?"

"I just, I'm gonna need some time, okay?"

Peggy's brow furrows. "Time to do what?"

"To be _okay_ ," Bucky says.

Peggy can see Steve approaching from behind Bucky, but she ignores him in favor of persisting, "But why aren't you okay in the first place?"

Bucky sighs, shakes his head. "It's just," he says, voice thick. "I spent a whole chunk of my life thinking that one day it would be me with Steve's ring on my finger. So."

All Peggy can do is blink in surprise as several puzzle pieces fall into place while Bucky throws some money on the bar and heads for the door. When she looks at Steve, the blond's expression is wrecked, and she gives him a 'get going' motion. "You've got some things to straighten out, I think."

Steve's gone as soon as she finishes speaking. It's started raining outside, but Steve manages to spot Bucky looking for a cab, and he grabs the other before he can succeed in his endeavor. "You think Peggy and I are engaged?" he demands without preamble. 

Bucky shrugs Steve off almost violently, but when he speaks he just sounds exhausted. "Go back to the party, Steve."

"No," Steve says stubbornly. "Answer the damn question, Bucky."

"Well that's what it is, isn't it?" Bucky demands. "An engagement party? Which, thanks f'the heads up, by the way. Fucking _hell_."

"James Buchanan Barnes, I want you to listen real close: This is Peggy and Angie's engagement party. I am not in a relationship with Peggy."

Bucky turns to Steve so fast he stumbles, stalls, tries to blink the rain out of his eyes. His hair is plastered to his forehead, though, and it doesn't help much. "What?"

"This party is for their engagement, Buck," Steve says, a bit more gently this time. "I'm not in a relationship with anyone, and I'm certainly not engaged."

The breath Bucky lets out is ragged, like it's just been punched from his lungs. He looks stricken. "I don't understand," he rasps.

"Peggy and I never dated."

Bucky reels back, and almost falls over. "Jesus," he hisses. "Christ, Steve, you're not makin' any sense an' I. I don't feel so good."

Steve stops trying to explain. "All right, let's get you home, then," he says, spotting a cab approaching. He pours Bucky into it, manages to coax his address from him, and gives it to the cab driver. 

Bucky officially checks out right around that time, and in the morning, he doesn't remember anything.

* * *

Steve gets Bucky into his bed, leaving some aspirin and water on the bedside table before he helps himself to Bucky's couch; with how drunk Bucky is - especially considering that he hasn't touched alcohol since he came back to the States - Steve doesn't want to take any chances with Bucky's health.

Unsurprisingly, Steve is up before Bucky, and a brief rummage through Bucky's refrigerator reveals no breakfast food; he makes a grocery run to pick some eggs, sausage, bacon, and biscuits, and Bucky _still_ isn't up by the time Steve returns; Steve checks on him to make sure he hasn't died, but when he's reassured that Bucky's still breathing, he retreats to the kitchen and starts cooking.

The smell wakes Bucky up eventually, and when he finally drags himself into the bathroom he's too busy throwing up to worry about where it's coming from. Things start to become clear, however, when he staggers out again and finds Steve in his kitchen. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Steve glances at Bucky before turning his attention back to the skillet. "Making sure you didn't die in the middle of the night by choking on your own vomit," he says mildly. "Breakfast is almost ready."

"No," Bucky says, the heel of his hand pressed right between his eyes. "No, Steve. You can't be here."

"Well, tough shit. We've got some things to talk about, so I'm not going anywhere. Now sit down, shut up, and eat your hangover breakfast."

Bucky stares at Steve for a long moment, his eyes wide and uncertain, but finally he does as he's told and sits down. He still knows better than to argue when Steve's like this. "I'm sorry," he offers a few minutes later. "I'll call Peggy and apologise when I feel less dead."

Steve sighs as he sits down across from Bucky. "I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you," he apologizes. "You don't have to apologize to Peggy for anything other than being a little rude last night, but it looked like you were on a mission to get smashed out of your mind, so she won't hold it against you."

Bucky sighs. "I don't remember much about last night, but I know I was an asshole. I just-- I was surprised."

"Surprised about what?" Steve asks. 

"The news," Bucky says. "Which, congratulations, by the way." His gaze skitters away from Steve when he says it, his heart aching even more than his head. _Christ._

Steve shakes his head. "I'm not the one needing congratulations; Peggy and Angie are. They're the ones who are engaged."

Bucky's head snaps back up. "What?"

"Peggy and Ange have been dating since a month or two after Peggy moved here from England," Steve explains. "So, a few years now. Angie's been waiting until she was co-owner of the diner to propose."

"I-- Oh," Bucky says, his eyes wide. " _Oh_. Oh my god."

Steve gives a rueful smile. "It just never came up, otherwise I would've told you, if I thought..."

"Oh my god," Bucky says again. "Shit. Steve, I'm so sorry."

Now Steve frowns in confusion. "Sorry for what?"

"For embarrassing you and myself," Bucky says. "God, I can't believe you're still here."

Steve, however, is still puzzled. "I'm still not sure what you mean. You didn't embarrass anyone."

"I went on a bender because I thought you were engaged, Steve," Bucky says flatly.

"Okay, I can see how that might be a bit embarrassing," Steve admits. "But at least you didn't make a scene or get into a fight or anything like that."

"No," Bucky sighs. "What did I do?"

"You told Peggy that you'd spent a good chunk of time thinking it'd be you wearing my ring," Steve says quietly. "Then you left, and I tried to explain what was going on, but you were already feeling sick, so I just brought you here and put you to bed."

"Well, I understand now," Bucky says. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"Nah," Steve says, shaking his head. "Little sad, maybe, when you shot me down, but I was never uncomfortable except when I thought I was making you uncomfortable."

Bucky scrubs a hand over his face. "What?"

Steve's expression turns sheepish. "When we went to that movie. I thought it was a date, but later you said it wasn't."

Bucky's insides twist in something that could be called hope if it didn't make him feel so sick. "Steve," he says. "I didn't..."

Steve shrugs. "It was a misunderstanding."

"And then some," Bucky says bitterly. "Fuck. Everything's all screwed up now, isn't it?"

Steve bites his lip for a moment before admitting, "I hope not."

Bucky blinks. "What-- What do you mean?"

"I understand if you need some time to process," Steve says hastily, "but when you're ready, I'd really like to take you on a date."

Bucky's laugh sounds nervous, almost uncomfortable. "Steve," he says. "You can't be serious."

"I am," Steve insists. "I want to go on a date with you."

"But, you know--" _everything_ , he almost says, but he doesn't; he can't. "I'm not the same person, Steve. You can do better."

"That's the thing, though; I don't think I can," Steve says gently. "I don't think there is anyone better."

"You don't mean that," Bucky says. "You broke up with me, remember?"

"I didn't want to," Steve confesses. "I thought it would be for the best, but... I really didn't want to. I regretted it as soon as I suggested it."

"So why didn't you say anything?" Bucky asks, just this side of desperate.

Steve sighs. "Because you didn't," he admits. "I thought... Well, I honestly don't really remember what I thought, besides I thought I was doing what was best for us, and you didn't disagree."

"And now?" Bucky asks.

Steve sighs. "I wish I'd never done it."

"It was for the best," Bucky tells him. "What happened while I was away, I couldn't have asked you to deal with that."

"But I would have wanted to," Steve says. "I wish I could've been there for you; I loved you. Still do, actually."

Bucky's heart seizes in his chest. "You do?"

"Yeah," Steve says with a small smile. "I do."

"Oh, Steve," Bucky breathes, and his eyes are suddenly wet. "I love you, too."

Steve scoots his chair over until he's sitting next to Bucky, and he reaches out to take one of Bucky's hands in his, expression hopeful. "So does that mean I'm forgiven for being an idiot all those years ago?"

"Of course you are," Bucky says. "Can you forgive me for being a complete tool ever since I got back?"

"Well, you weren't a _complete_ tool, but yes," Steve says with a grin. 

Bucky smiles back, but his gaze soon drops to their hands. "So what now?" he asks softly. "What do you want?"

"I want you; whatever you're willing to give me," Steve answers simply. 

"What if I can't give you much of anything?" Bucky asks.

Steve shrugs. "I won't care," he says honestly. 

"I'm not the same," Bucky says again. "It's not just the arm. It's... I was tortured out there. Tortured in the worst possible ways. I wake up screaming more nights than not. I still have flashbacks, times when I don't know where I am or if I'm safe. Fireworks make me want to cower under a table like a dog, and I'm probably never going to be good with crowds. And I'm... scarred. Pretty fuckin' horrifically, honestly. I haven't been near anyone since I got back; I don't even know if I can..."

"Let me start by saying I don't give a shit if we ever have sex," Steve says firmly. "And I don't care about any of the other things. I know you went through some shit, even if I don't know the specifics, and I understand that means you're going to have baggage, for lack of a better word. I want to be there for you, for everything."

"I hear you," Bucky says, "but this is big stuff, Steve. It's scary. I can't ask you to--"

"Yes you can," Steve says gently. 

Bucky squeezes Steve's hand, but he can't meet his gaze. "This isn't something we need to work out right away," he says. "Maybe-- maybe we should take some time. Or talk to someone."

Steve nods. "What about Sam?" he suggests after a moment of thought. 

"That's what I was thinking," Bucky says. "He knows everything, pretty much."

"Should we talk to him together?"

"Maybe," Bucky says. "Maybe he can help."

Steve smiles. "Then that's what we can do," he says. "Do you want to ask him or do you want me?"

"I'll talk to him," Bucky says. "He'll want to know what he can talk about."

Steve nods. "All right. Let me know when you want to do this."

"I will," Bucky promises.

Steve stays at Bucky's long enough to finish breakfast, but then he leaves; he doesn't bother going to his apartment, just texts Peggy to make sure he won't be intruding, and then goes to her and Angie's place. "So I've got good news and not-so-good news, I guess," he says as soon as the door opens. 

"The kettle's just boiled," Peggy says as she lets him in. "Come through to the kitchen and tell me all about it."

Steve does as bid, waving a hello to a still-groggy Angie, and once he and Peggy are situated, he starts with, "Bucky thought you and I were dating."

"I thought as much," Peggy says. "And?"

"And I corrected his misunderstanding," Steve admits. "I uh, told him I still loved him. He still loves me, apparently."

Peggy smiles. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Well, that'd be the not-so-good news. He wasn't just a prisoner of war; he was tortured."

Peggy looks pained. "Oh Jesus," she breathes.

Steve nods. "He doesn't know if he's ready for a relationship; he said he still faces the consequences of that, which is understandable, but he kept saying he couldn't ask me to put up with that."

"Did he give you a clue as to what 'that' is?"

"Nightmares," Steve answers, looking at the drink in his hand and speaking quietly. "Panic attacks, flashbacks, anxiety, from what I gathered. I didn't exactly press for information."

"And can you?" Peggy asks. "Handle all of that? It's a lot to take on."

"I know it is," Steve says. "But I believe I can handle it."

"But how can you be sure?"

"No one can be sure, but I know I love Bucky, and I want to be there for him in whatever way I can. I'm willing to try, and everything that entails."

Peggy smiles softly. "So what are you going to do?"

"We're going to meet with Sam, together, and talk about this," Steve answers. "Hopefully he'll be able to give me some practical advice on how to handle some of the situations that might come up; Bucky said he'd told Sam everything about what happened to him."

Peggy wrinkles her nose. "That must be tough," she says, "knowing that Sam knows everything, but you don't."

"Kind of?" Steve hedges. "I mean, I respect Bucky's wishes, and while I would like to know so I can better understand what Bucky went through, I don't _need_ to know anything more than the generalities."

"What if he never tells you?"

"Then I'd respect that," Steve answers. "It's not my place to press for more information, not on this subject."

Peggy reaches out, touches Steve's hand. "You're a good person, Steve."

Steve gives Peggy a slight, tired smile. "Thanks."

* * *

Bucky wastes very little time in calling Sam, and once he explains the situation Sam is more than happy to help. They take the rest of the week to process everything, and when Steve still insists on going through with it, they arrange to meet at Sam's place: neutral territory. Bucky's more nervous than he's been in months.

"So, first of all I want to say that it's about damn time you two pulled your heads out of your asses," Sam says. "But I know it's not that simple. Bucky has some concerns, and Steve, I'm betting you do, too."

Steve nods. "I want to be able to support Bucky, but I'm not entirely sure how to do that," he explains. "I don't want to accidentally make the situation worse."

"You don't gotta worry about that, Steve," Bucky says. "It gets worse all by itself."

"Maybe, but I still want to make sure I can help you as best I can," Steve says with a slight smile. 

"It's not always gonna be that easy," Sam warns gently. "What Bucky went through, it's not cut and dry. There's never going to be a specific formula to helping that will always work."

Steve nods. "I understand," he says honestly. 

"I'm pretty fucked up," Bucky offers, but Sam frowns at him.

"No you're not," he says. "The shit you've been through, it's a miracle you're still standing. And you're getting better every day. You know this."

Bucky shoots him a sharp look. "Doesn't mean I'm safe to be let loose around normal people, normal..."

"Relationships?" Sam asks, eyebrow raised.

"You've been doing fine so far," Steve tells Bucky. "You're not a danger to 'normal' people, Buck." He includes air quotes and everything. 

"Still doesn't mean I won't just drag you down into hell with me," Bucky says darkly.

"It better," Sam says. "That was a terrible movie."

Steve can't help snorting at that. "It really was," he agrees. "And you're not that bad."

"You don't know that," Bucky insists. "Tell him!"

"Tell him what?" Sam demands. "I've read your file. You were barely human when you got back, Barnes, but that was _four years ago_. Since I met you, you've been fighting every day to overcome what happened to you. It hasn't been easy, and there have been days when I thought you were going to give up, but you never have."

Bucky winces. "Sam..."

"No," Sam says sharply. "What do you want me to tell him? That you struggle? That you have days where you can't get out of bed; where you can't stand to make eye contact and if you're pushed to talk it comes out in Russian? That you punish yourself for those days _hard_ , even though no one would blame you if you were a jibbering wreck a hundred percent of the time? That you're the strongest person I've ever met, and that you stayed away from him for so long because you were scared that you would disappoint him; because you _love_ him? That you deserve his love in return?" He looks up at Steve. "Because all of those things are true."

Steve blinks, feeling the hot prick of tears behind his eyes; _that's_ what Bucky's been dealing with? Or what he's still dealing with, to be more accurate. Steve can't even begin to imagine what Bucky must have gone through when he first came back. "They don't change my mind," he says after a long moment. "I still love you, Bucky. I'm not going anywhere."

Bucky dares to look at Steve then, and sees nothing but truth in his eyes. "I'd like that," he says quietly. "I love you."

Steve dares to reach over and place his hand over one of Bucky's, squeezing gently. "I love you, too."

"So is that it?" Sam asks, when all Bucky does in response is squeeze Steve's hand and give him a tender, beautiful smile. "Are we done?"

"I--" Bucky hesitates, turns back to Sam but doesn't let go. "Maybe?"

"I'm here for you," Sam says. "Both of you, day or night. But honestly?" He jerks his head to indicate Steve. "I think he's got this."

Steve squeezes Bucky's hand again. "Thank you, Sam; for your help and your confidence," he says, smiling. 

"Yeah," Bucky agrees. "Thank you so much."

Sam rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "Get out," he says. "Go make heart-eyes at each other somewhere else, I got shit to do."

Steve laughs as he gets to his feet. "All right; we'll see you later, Sam."

* * *

Things are pretty damn good after that. They take it at a glacial pace, but even so, by the time they're two months in Steve is spending most of his time at Bucky's place or vice versa and Bucky is starting to wonder if they should just move in together. He's thinking about bringing it up one weekend they're scheduled to go to dinner together, but morning comes and he knows there's no way in hell. Today is a bad day.

It's the first really bad episode he's had since he started seeing Steve again, brought on by nothing that he can figure - but then, that's kind of the point sometimes. It's fine; he's done this enough times to know that it'll pass eventually. But Steve wakes up with him, and he insists on staying the whole day. Bucky is equal parts ashamed and relieved.

Steve actually does pretty well. He does all the talking for them and then some, doesn't pressure Bucky to get up and dressed before he's ready, makes sure Bucky eats but doesn't try to push him into anything else. They've only recently gotten to the stage where Bucky is comfortable with Steve touching his left arm, and today Steve keeps his distance, only touching Bucky at all with permission and offering nothing but quiet solidarity when it's clear that Bucky can't deal with anything else. It helps a lot, and gradually Bucky comes back to himself, until he finds himself lying on the sofa with his head in Steve's lap, Steve's fingers gently carding through his hair. He doesn't actually remember getting to this point, but he's grateful, and he closes his eyes.

It's dark outside by the time he finds his voice again. He starts with a yawn and a snuffle against Steve's thigh, and then says, voice rough, "Bet you didn't believe him, huh? About the Russian."

Steve chuckles, not stopping his hand as he answers, "Well, I certainly didn't expect you to be so fluent. I'm pretty sure you cussed me out at one point." His tone is just a little teasing, testing to make sure it's okay.

"Maybe," Bucky agrees, closing his eyes again. "M'sorry."

Steve gives Bucky's head a gentle swat. "You don't have to apologize," he says firmly. 

Bucky makes a soft, hurt sound and pulls back. "No, sorry, I--"

Steve mentally curses himself, pulling his hands back around to where Bucky can see them. "Hey, no - I'm sorry, Buck; I shouldn't have done that. I'm not mad at you, I'm sorry."

"No, it's me, I should-- I should go," Bucky stammers.

"Bucky, you're okay," Steve says as gently and patiently as he can. "You're all right, you're safe. You don't need to go anywhere if you don't want to."

Bucky hesitates, his breathing shallow. "I don't want to," he admits quietly.

"You can stay here," Steve says reassuringly. "I won't do that again, I swear."

Bucky sighs, scrubs a hand over his face. "Fuck," he says. "I'm a mess."

Steve smiles slightly. "Yeah, well I still love you."

Bucky huffs out a soft laugh, somehow manages to smile back. "Yeah, I love you, too."

"Good," Steve says, moving his arms so that they’re open to Bucky in invitation. 

It's an invitation that Bucky takes, and he steals a kiss while he's at it for good measure. "Thank you," he says softly, earnestly. "Thank you."

Steve smiles as he returns the kiss. "You're welcome; I love you so much."

"I love you," Bucky murmurs, closing his eyes. "God, I'm so tired."

"Go back to sleep," Steve says encouragingly. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

Bucky smiles softly. "Promise?"

"I promise."

Bucky makes a contented sound, and makes sure to take hold of Steve's before he drifts off.


End file.
